Dear Lily
by St. Walker
Summary: It's as simple as the title. James begins writing letters to Lily, and slowly he wins her over. But not without a few bumps in the road, and a lot of ranting.
1. September 7, 1976

A/N: I've decided to start a story that is basically letters from James to Lily, although he doesn't give them to her. It's just a bunch of drabbles and really a way for me to think about these two characters. I'll probably update often. So anyways. Thank you to all those who plan to read and review this. I hope I won't let you all down.

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September 7, 1976

Dear Lily,

I don't know why I'm writing this, honestly. Okay I kinda know. It's sixth year and Sirius is aggravated by me, you know, staring at you all the time and talking about you. Well what else am I supposed to do, study? I don't want to do that at all. What a waste that would be. I did great on my OWLs, I don't need to try this year. I think, I don't know, Transfiguration is already really easy this year. Nonverbal spells are simple, though you seem to be concentrating on performing them right now in the Common Room.

I digress, I'm getting off topic. Sirius thinks that if I'm not going to talk to you (as I'm a bit afraid after last year with Sni-Snape and such, plus I think you would hate to make eye contact with me), I should write down how I'm feeling so he won't have to punch me every time I mention the shape of your ears or the way your lips are puckered when you're thinking too hard about which Jam to use on your toast in the morning. He's doing me a favor, he said. Said it'll save me from loads of bruises on the shoulder. I didn't believe he'd continually go through with it, but then Remus piped up that he would do it too if necessary.

So I'm writing you a letter. I dunno how many of these I'll write, but Remus said I should write one whenever I'm really feeling it with you. Like I want to shout to everyone how I feel about you, but I can't because then you'll yell at me and my heart will hurt and I'll have to act like an ass so you won't know how easy it is for you to make me feel terrible.

You're sitting at one of the couches with Marlene McKinnon, reading a book on Transfiguration and occasionally placing the book against your chest, your eyes pointing to the left and up, your lips moving silently as you attempt wandless magic. I want to kiss you. Marlene is reading some sort of magazine, Trendy Witch perhaps, when she nudges you, whispering something with her eyes on me. You frown slowly, your face flushing, and it's not your concentration frown with your brow furrowed and all that. No, it's the angry frown that is always aimed at the boy with hazel eyes.

You don't turn around though. Your eyes are on your book again, with that frown still in place, and I know you know where I am sitting, what I am doing exactly, just staring and all that, but you won't turn around because I still haven't apologized to you for last year and I'm sorry about that, I'm just so afraid of what you're going to say. I know, James Potter, fearless. But you're the only person I'm afraid of 'cause... Well you matter to me, your opinion matters to me. For awhile it didn't, for awhile I pretended like I didn't care what you said. I acted like you wanted me to act, like a pompous prick, and I believed I was for awhile but-

I realize now with you not looking at me that I am so tired of this, all of this. I hate you looking at me with hatred, or not looking at me. And I know it's my fault. I need to fix myself. Because I want you terribly. It's a curse really, feeling like this, but there are so many other people in the world but I can't see them like I see you. I just want to matter to you as something more than I am now.

I still have that list you know, the one with all the reasons why you'll never date me.

1. You're a bully

2. You're constantly making trouble

3. You think you're the greatest person in the world

4. You're a coward

5. You're self-centered

6. You just want to chase me, that's it

7. You never know when to give up

8. You won't grow up

I don't know if I can do all that Lily, I don't think I can ever give up on you. But I know I have to try with the rest of this list. It's odd. I don't think I could've ever tried to fix myself if I didn't have a purpose like you. And I'm going to win you over, no matter how long it takes, no matter how many mistakes I make I will fix us. But I guess there was never an us to fix... Still. I'm going to stand up, go over to you, and apologize. No running my hand through my hair, just the honest, loving truth.

And I just did. I just said some truth. I went over to you were sitting, told Marlene to go talk to someone else for a moment, which she abided by easily. You looked past me to the fire when I sat down, your arms crossed, giving nothing to me. So I paused for a bit, waiting for you while you waited for me, until I finally couldn't take it.

"Look I know you don't want to talk to me," I said, resisting the urge to touch my hair. It's a nervous itch, I swear.

"No, really?" You said, sarcasm dripping from your lips.

I ignored you, grabbing one of the pillows and picking at a protruding feathers. "I'm sorry about last term. I know, I know, I shouldn't have done it. I make a lot of mistakes when I'm with Sirius, no I make a lot of mistakes when I'm me, and I didn't think it would get that out of hand, but I started it in the first place. I'm an idiot, I know, and I just, I keep looking back at it and I realize how much of an insufferable prick I am and I just wish I could take it back. It was childish, and I was just so immature. Can you somehow forgive me?"

You were silent for a long time, your emerald eyes on the fire. Oh, how I could've leaned in and just brushed your lips ever so slightly.

"Well, you were right about the 'insufferable prick' part," You murmured, smirking. "Fine, Potter. I forgive you. Just please. Stay away from me for awhile. I need time to really... fix myself, I guess."

My heart hurt, and I gulped down the lump in my throat, nodding. "Of course."

I turned around quickly, hoping to get away before my hands started shaking, but you called me back. "James?"

I glance at you, surprised. Oh the warmth spread through me, to hear your lips move in the shape of my name, what a glorious day. "Lily?"

"That was really nice and... honest."

I shrugged, containing my excitement. Nice. Honest. I said something nice! "I guess you deserve that from me."

I turned around, and here I am. My God, I'm actually getting somewhere. Maybe writing letters is good, it clears my head. Hm, I should do this more often.

Love,

James

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_I hoped you enjoyed that. It was quite long for the drabble format I'm going for, so the next ones may be shorter. I don't know. Maybe at one point they'll be longer. I digress, thank you for reading! It would be exceptionally wonderful if you also REVIEWED! Thanks so much!_

_-_St. Walker


	2. September 11, 1976

**A/N: I've decided I cannot wait. I want to write another letter.**

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September 11, 1976

Dear Lily,

Remus and Sirius dragged me to the library today, searching for a new prank idea. I lazed around with them, flipping through an old Transfiguration book. And then I saw you around the corner in front of a bookshelf, your back to me. Fiction, you were looking through fiction. Then you turned into a new aisle, my gaze upon your arms.

You walked with books, clutched tightly in your hands, pressing close to your warm heart.

I wished I was fiction.

Love,

James

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_Please read and review. _

-St. Walker


	3. September 13, 1976

**A/N: I just love writing short drabbles. Thank you for the reviews. It would be wonderful if you all went and reviewed my other Lily/James story, Life, or something like that. well anyway.**

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September 13, 1976

Dear Lily,

There is this glass bottle on the window sill in my dormitory. Sirius placed it there, but he won't tell me what it's for exactly. It doesn't really bother me. But every morning this year when I've woken up, there it is, on the window sill, all calm and dusty like.

And in the morning, with the curtains open, light passes through the windows, dancing upon every surface, slowly waking my sleeping lids with this golden taste of brilliance. And when I look at the glass bottle it is shimmering, glazed with sunlight within. And then I realize.

It is you. You are the sunshine within that bottle.

Love,

James

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_Please read and review. _

-St. Walker


	4. September 15, 1976

**A/N: Thank you all so much for the reviews! I didn't expect so much so quickly, but thank you for everything! Anyways.**

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September 15, 1976

Dear Lily,

I chased you through an open field and streams of sunlight, the warm air wrapped gently around us, saccharine against our lips. We were shadows in the gold and purple hues of Evening, running barefoot through the cool grass, the past and future forgotten. I held you beneath leaves and apple trees, letting the wind whisper the secrets we never spoke, drinking in the sweet nectar of each other's silence. You closed your eyes with nothing left to breathe, a smile playing lightly on your features, drawing radiance. I moved to brush your lips with mine.

And then I woke up.

I have this same dream often and I keep hoping I won't wake up for once.

Love,

James

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_But honestly, thank your the continued support. I hope you all read and review!_

_-_St. Walker


	5. September 19, 1976

**A/N: I just love writing short drabbles. Thank you for the reviews! Honestly! It would be wonderful if you all went and reviewed my other Lily/James story, Life, or something like that. well anyway.**

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September 19, 1976

Dear Lily,

I woke up early today with Sirius to go to the library. I know, you're surprised, but there's this Transfiguration spell he and I are both exceptionally intrigued by, and, though we've learned it already, we've decided we want to take it one step further, or perhaps, make it into something else-Ah, I'm rambling again, ah well. What I mean to say is that he and I plan to engineer our own dutifully collected spell, placed in our heads as of soon, hopefully. I mean, we don't really know what we're going to make a spell for, perhaps it'll be like a novelty item, a little souvenir that is simply useless but is something to look at once and awhile-or maybe it'll have a purpose. We don't really know yet, but we're skipping breakfast and probably Divination (as we shall be delving into breakfast in the kitchens at that time, plus it's not like anyone would miss us in there, snickering quietly about seeing juvenile things in our tea leaves).

So we planned to find a book to dive into, something to study, really, something about creating spells. Restricted section, yeah, what a problem-not really, Sirius just made suggestive remarks to Madame Pince along with some eyebrow waggling and she smiled sweetly, telling us we could study for as long as we wanted. I'm worried about Sirius. I think at one point Pince's actually going to take his remarks to heart and make a move and where will I be? Having to pull them apart, or just sitting beside, ignoring their gross state. It's not that she isn't attractive it's just... she's a librarian.

I digress. We found a spell engineering book and we're lazing about, counting ideas. We asked Remus to come along but he refused, intermittently commenting that he was actually interested in Divination, which you and I both know is bolshevik. He's talking sheet again, He just likes being partnered with Marlene. Hoover Dam, Everyone knows that including Marlene, and I bet she doesn't mind one pretty bit. Right, the not swear word words. It's a bet. I'll win, I swear. But anyway, with Remus away, Sirius and I have encouraged creativity, our minds wandering about. I can't seem to think though. My thoughts are on you again. When aren't they? It's not that I never stop thinking about you, I suppose, it's just that you are sometimes all I think about.

Well Pads and I worked and worked, but we couldn't find a spell idea. What a bust. But we still learned the basic mechanics about crafting spells. Tough work, that is. Well. We left the library.

And then it was lunch-time. I saw you walking with Marlene and Selina, your eyes turned away from me, laughing at something Marlene had said. But I know you usually turn to the left when you laugh, so I guess you wanting me to stay away includes you wanting to stay away from me.

But underneath the morning sun, between Divination and Charms, our shadows passed each other and almost touched.

Love,

James

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_Please read and review. _

-St. Walker


	6. September 23, 1976

**Author's Note: **Thank you for the reviews, all of those that review. They give me a reason to continue this story. So please, anyone who reads this please review! Thank you.

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September 23, 1976

Dear Lily,

I was in the library again today. I know, how odd. It's becoming a habit of mine. I should stop before I turn out like you. Or worse... _Remus._ He just hit me. I suppose someone likes to read over my shoulder! I don't think he or Sirius understand that these letters are personal. They're only meant for you. They're addressed to you, and someday I may give these all to you.

I've been wondering about that all recently. Whenever I see you and image of giving all these letters flashes in my head, but I don't know if perhaps I'm half-seer and it's a future's memory, or another daydream. Either way - it causes thinking on my part, my eyes glancing at the many "Lily Potter" scribbles on my notes. When we get together, I'm confident I'll give them to you. But then I wonder if I'll scare you off so early, and then I decide that I'll give them to you when we marry - but am I looking to far, am I even scaring myself? Do I even want to marry you? Merlin, I'm thinking too much. Look, I'll decide when I get there. The timing should be right, yeah? Like when you have that flash in your eyes and I feel as if I should kiss you. But then it disappears the moment I speak. Damn me. Never mind.

I'm not in the library studying, if that's what you think. That's complete bollocks, studying this early in the year. Remus is, mind you, but that's him for you. A damn saint.

I'm in the library 'cause I'm avoiding you. What? Surprised? Yeah, the tables have turned, in an unlikely, disappointing, I-wish-they-hadn't way. I'm really trying to give you space, and I'm surprised I've lasted this long. So is Sirius, and that's not just because he bet with wormtail I would only last three days in Lily withdrawal. Can you believe it's already been sixteen bloody days since I last spoke to you? I've got half a mind to walk up to you the next time I see you and just kiss you, all forceful and strong like, hoping to elicit a reaction, no matter whether it's angry or, for Merlin's sake, a small smirk pauses on your face because you've actually _enjoyed_ it. But we all know that will never happen.

And to keep myself from acting on impulse, I've holed myself up in the library with Remus during every break I can get. Seeing you in class is hard enough, having to stare at the back of your head and pretend I wasn't looking when you turn around to talk to Marlene. But I am deep in Lily withdrawal and the only way to keep myself safe is to read. Yeah, I suppose I have turned into Remus. I'm reading. _For fun. _

But I can't read as I toss and turn in bed, glaring at the crimson curtains and duvet, trying to stop fumbling in the dark. So instead, my mind wanders and all I can find is you. Constantly, in my dreams, I have this impulse to just tell you everything - to spread it out on the table, like an actual deck of cards, so you'll understand how I truly feel. And then other nights we're kissing in a broom cupboard, or my chin is on your hair, your face pressed against my chest and you keep whispering, "James, I've missed you." I'm so lost in this sickness, I'm so deeply lost in my dreams that sometimes when I wake up with a smile on my face, I have to ask Sirius if you love me yet. 'Cause sometimes these dreams feel just like reality, and I can't help hoping that nothing is fake.

It's like what I'm doing right now with Remus, reading this book he found for me in the fiction section. It's all these wonderful stories and characters, but in the back of my head I cannot shake the feeling that I know, for sure, _none of this is real. _

Dammit Lily. Let's get out of my head and become real; fiction always had a last page and I want to touch forever with you.

Love,

James


	7. September 27, 1976

**Author's Note: **Thank you all so much for the reviews! Sorry it took so long for this chapter, I was debating this chapter for awhile. Anyways, here it is!

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September 27, 1976

Dear Lily,

You are sitting in front of me with your hair tied back in a ponytail, but, as usually, out of the hair tie it slips in curls, eurhyrthmically shaped like singular waves all reaching the same beach at the same time. I want so terribly to reach out and touch your hair, to cacoon myself in your waves, and _oh my Merlin _I sound insane.**_  
_**

Never mind that, dear. I just enjoy your hair a lot. Have I ever told you that the moment I saw you I knew there was something so ingeniously magical about you, and for three years I thought it was the hair. I mean, I had seen red heads before, but you were the only one I ever knew, plus the only girl whoever challenged me. That's silly to chase after, but you intrigued me to no end, with your sarcasm and short attitude, and let's not forget the hair, that bloody hair like fire dribbling down your neck like a faucet, streams and ribbons of beautiful cerise touching your skin. And for those three years I wondered if perhaps your ability to go against me, your interest in calling me "arrogant" and a "sexist pig" was fueled by the flames of your hair, like your locks stored this strange strength against me and only me.

Which is why first year I pulled on your ponytail in the Great Hall one day just to see what happened. You know how I was (yet you think that should be present tense) always causing mischief and aggravating people. Granted, we had only known each other for a month or so, but I'm certain my first impression wasn't the greatest. So when I wrapped your tail in my fist and pulled lightly, a glint in my eye as I ran back to Sirius, taking long strides as if I thought that would help. And you turned to look at me, the perfect explanation of disgust on your face. I grinned sheepishly, and with a shake of your head you stuck your tongue out at me, not in a flirtatious way, but in a way that said, "I think you're an idiot." And damn, I was smitten.

Then second year came around and I thought that if your hair wasn't red anymore, perhaps you wouldn't hate me so easily (I was exceptionally intelligent back then, right?). So Sirius and I dyed your hair brown one morning. So you could have hair like me. Sirius wanted to dye it purple or some outlandish colour (especially since the day before you snitched on him in Potions), but I denied him countless times. I just wanted to know what you looked like if we were equals, and to see if you were prettier as a brunette (and if you ever ask me later I will tell you of your adorableness, but honestly it was horrendous. I could not believe how deeply it made me cringe to not see you with red hair). And maybe I thought purple would only make you even angrier than red already did (like I said. I was an intellectual). So when you grabbed my hair at breakfast and pulled me down so you could shave part of it off, I realized perhaps the colour of your hair didn't matter at all. Perhaps you really didn't like me, not one bit.

But I was impertinent. Third year, after getting enough courage to look you in the eye without smirking, I went to your table at the library, your face hair covering the book you read, as, on that day, you decided perhaps a ponytail wasn't the best choice and damn you were right, damn whichever way you wore your hair was always right. So I sat in front of you, and I'm certain you knew it was me, but you did not move, perhaps hoping I would walk away. So I asked. "Is your hair the reason you're always angry at me, you know, being red and all, or is there another reason?"

You glanced at me with amazed annoyance and said, "The reason I'm always angry at you is because you are you. Now sod off."

With that you shut you book, picked up your bag, and turned away, taking my heart with you.

And now here I am, wanting so desperately to reach out and touch your hair, to run my fingers through your waves and pretend I am in an ocean of your entire being, intertwining myself with your very soul that courses through veins of red coils. I don't know why today this desire is so radiantly strong, but I need it, I want it, I even want you to turn around and swat my hand away, your eyes narrowed, those emeralds lost within your anger. I don't even care, I don't, I just want you to know I exist and -

Remus just pulled my hand back that was almost touching your hair. Shoot, I didn't even notice I had moved. He looked at me with a warning head shake, mouthing _do not be an idiot today. _The Bastard was always right.

Lucky for me, moments after our little exchange, you turned to your left, taking out a piece of parchment and handing it to Marlene with a swift smile. Your cheeks scrunched and the tip of your nose crinkled slightly. And, with your lips parted slightly, you murmured something I could not hear, a minuscule chuckle escaping from your breath, like little drops of amber slipping from your tongue. You held an aroma of Autumn and Vanilla, the very aromas I remembered from my amortentia last year.

And it was then I formally realized I am deeply, completely in love with you.

I don't know why it took so long to feel it, to see it sitting there in front of me in History of Magic, a careless smile gracing your lips. Perhaps it had always been there, lighting my nights and crossing into my dreams. Perhaps I should have noticed years ago, months, weeks, days, I don't know, but here it was, at the most everyday time. Isn't the moment when you fall in love supposed to be epic and dramatic beyond belief, like two people kissing in the rain? I always thought that was real love.

But I realized something. Perhaps love was just the everyday. Waking up next to someone beautiful and smiling, teaching the other person a charms spell she didn't understand, looking at her across the Great Hall and understanding, as she licks her lips upon seeing treacle tart which she so deeply loves, that you as well have found something (someone) you love. It was normal, it was odd, it was simple, but it was so magical. And I loved it.

You must have noticed my eyes boring into you because you glanced at me, apprehension filling your eyes. "Something wrong, Potter?"

Twenty days had passed since you last spoke to me, and damn I missed the way "Potter" fell of your tongue, even when it was filled with malice. But in this moment, your thoughts were fragile, your words nervous. Of course, you assumed I was going to ask you out again, it had been more than long enough - and Merlin know's I've been itching to do it. And with this new understanding, perhaps, maybe, I could show you how deeply I love you, and, finally, you'd understand everything, you'd want to say yes, finally I'd win you over.

But.

But there lay a part of me that was completely ridden with fear, with longing for you, but also with a such a fear that you would not long for me back. Was this possible? For once in my life I honestly feared you would not reciprocate, and that instead I'd dissolve slowly, my entire being breaking because even with all of my emotions laid out, you would not feel as I feel. I didn't want that, not now, not ever. I couldn't let you hurt me now.

I shook my head quickly, twisting my neck back to my paper, making sure I could not see your face at all. My neck burned, a blush creeping up slowly. Even when I knew you had turned around did I raise my head, earning a raised eyebrow from Remus. I didn't say anything, I just waited for the warmth to recede, hoping it would take my love as well.

Oh shit. This could be a problem.

Love,

James

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Please read and review! It would mean so much to me, and make me want to update quicker.

-St. Walker


	8. October 3, 1976

**Author's Note: **Thank you so much for reading and reviewing, all of you. Please continue!

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October 3, 1976

Dear Lily,

I woke up with a song in my head this morning. And I debated trying to sing it to you.

Seeing as I'm not in the infirmary (yet), I obviously didn't. But I debated it, Merlin knows I debated it. It's a tuesday and I have charms this morning, first thing. Well, breakfast first thing, then charms. With you. Always have, you know? I mean, I don't remember any of the Gryffindors splitting that often as it was, but you and I have had too many classes together. Not to say that's a bad thing, but I'm just saying it's a thing. God, I'm rambling again, I'm sorry. Even when I'm writing I'm able to screw things up between us just by going on about stupid things and if you could see me right now you would roll your eyes at my hand running through my hair.

Side subject: Why does that bother you? I'm just mussing up my hair. It's a nervous habit, but every time you see, annoyance crosses your face. And I'm a little tired of it. I only do it around you because you make me nervous - so fucking nervous. You don't get that though, do you? I'm always smirking, running a hand through my hair, winking at you, calling you by your last name - cause I'm scared, honestly. I'm scared of how looking at you makes me feel. I mean, for goodness sake Lily, I just admitted to myself I am in love with you. It took this long, how do you expect me to make sense of my own emotions when I'm around you?

You're daft if you think this is all me. It's you.

Okay, maybe that should be explained. I just mean... You drive me to be this cocky, arrogant, and overly nauseating teenage boy who acts as if all he wants is sex, or a hook-up, or something that won't last forever. But I don't. Well, okay, that's a lie, I do want sex. But with you. Forever. Ugh.

I sound like an idiot, you know? Just garbling on about this, rambling until you punch me. Lucky I'm writing or else I'd probably be knocked out already. God. This is in shambles. I can't seem to fix anything. I just need to get this all out, you know?

I like running my hand through my hair, I like smirking, but I don't enjoy being rejected or seeing your face heat up in anger, because I don't understand anymore! No, I haven't changed, not really, I'm still that nervous first year who pulled on your ponytail because he thought you looked cute and he was afraid of your hair colour. Yes, I'm still waiting for you to turn around and look at my hands and my face and take them, just take them as yours and kiss like you've never been alive before, like you need my breath to exist.

Yes, I will always want that. I will always, always, always, _always_ wish you would look at me and smile. Just for once, a real, heart string pulling, loving smile, complete with unadulterated laughter. I want to make you feel something for me.

But that's my problem, isn't it. Remus told me about it once and I shoved it off, but there it is.

That's my problem. I want to make you feel something. I want to force this love into you, I want to grab your shoulders and make you look at me. Has it always been like that? Not me waiting, but me pushing? Maybe you were right when I was after the chase, maybe I enjoy making a fool of myself. Okay, that's not true, but I realize now, having moved from Charms to lunch to Potions to History of Magic, that I pushed. God, I pushed. My snarky comments, my agitating under the breath murmurs, my selfish attempts to woo you. God, I've made an ass of myself trying to make you see me for myself. And all I really should've been doing was letting you look at me yourself.

It's sixth year and I've wasted all this time pushing and shoving and dancing around how I really feel, acting like I was after you, giving you the semblance that I am after a right game with you, when I should have explained, lightly, to myself and to you, that I am lost in you, that I want nothing more than you.

I'm arrogant. I know. I have no sense of how you or any other girls work. I get really nervous when you're around me, so nervous I put on this mask, hoping that I'll be endearing or charming somehow, but my head just inflates and my ego knocks you over, and I hate it. I hate that me.

I wish you knew the real me, you know? I know, I know. Overused expression, but truthful. The best cliches usually are.

I digress. I want you to place your hand on my heart and feel the pulse so you can match it. I want you to feel me, completely, none of this nervous arrogance I place on my face because it will hide how deeply I love you. I've done so many things wrong, I've made so many mistakes. I just hope, if you ever do read these, that you'll forgive me for all those year, all those idiotic tendencies. I was stupid. Damn, I'm still stupid, I'll always act dumb around you, and yeah, part of me is that mask, part of me likes to prank, to make sarcastic comments and silly innuendos, and to ask you out on dates. That's me, that will always be me.

But another part of me loves you more than anyone else.

And you also need to understand, if we ever do fall in love, that is.

You need to learn how to love all of me. I can, I do. The anger, the fire, the sadness, the agitation, the hate, the smiles, the shining of your laughter, the humor, the sarcasm - all of it. All of you.

Damn. I'm pretty romantic, yeah? (I had to ruin it. It wouldn't be a real letter without that.)

And now. Shit.

I just -

I ran up to you. After potions, with you hightailing it out of there to get to the common room 'cause you left your jacket up there and brrr, it's freezing, I followed you. I caught up to you on the fourth floor, taking hold of your wrist, your smooth, slightly freckled wrist with a bracelet your mother gave you two years ago, a silver owl dancing with plum eyes. You turned and immediately your eyes narrowed, but they're softer than usual, surprise crossing onto your lips.

"Potter?" And it wasn't not the usual, angry, heart-dismantling growl, it's smooth, milky, and when I breathed it in my lips twitch slightly. You're so warm. Focus James.

I tipped my head back, searching your gaze, lingering on the universes deep within your eyes, all those speck of light, and I murmured, "I'm tired."

You cocked your head to the left slightly, questioning my words.

"I'm so damn tired," I continued, then noticing I have yet to let go of your wrist, "of all this shit we've gone through. Cause I was an arse the entire time, I just pushed and hoped and acted like an idiot, cause I thought that would win you over you know?"

"Potter," You started, but I cut you off.

"No, I'm not finished. I don't want that anymore, I don't want to chase you anymore. I made a fool of myself and you, and that isn't me Lily. I'm not that guy that you always thought I was. I'm still stupid, yeah, but... that wasn't me."

I knew what I was going to say next. I knew it, I could hear my head practicing it over and over again. _I'm giving up and I'd love to be friends if you want. _I just had to say it then, right then, no big deal. But, like I told you, I get nervous around you.

"I'm just gonna ask one time," I said before my mind could stop me, "Will you go to the next Hogsmeade trip with me?"

You sighed. You were tired too. "Just go."

It blew me back, it hurt a hell of a lot more than I expected. But I'm an idiot. "No I won't go. I won't."

You growled excessively, and I didn't even know eyes could narrow that much but there you were. "Potter."

Seems you like to say my name, eh? I didn't say that. "I'm gonna take that as a no. I can't salvage this anymore, you know? I guess it's time to give up. I don't know what on, I can't let go of something I never really had. But."

I backed up as I said this, and, somewhere within, I was both celebrating at my odd ability to turn this around (yet also wrenching my heart into pieces at the pain this caused me) as I said, "I'm done. So. If you ever want it, I'd like to be friends. Somehow, if that's all we can be. But until then, I'll just leave you be."

To say the least, you were shocked, your emeralds widening, your hand reaching back to grab the stair landing railing, and it took all of my willpower not to reach out and steady you. Your hands, I stared at your hands, young and smooth, pink and soft, tints of auburn scattered across.

The distance between our fingers was infinite.

I turned around then, afraid I would end up blinking back tears in front of you. I know I was walking quicker than normal pace, and when you spoke next I was ready to tear off running.

"James."

It was so beautiful to finally hear my name on your lips with a deep softness, a caring charm to it, and this irrevocable warmth to it leaning in my ears. Like broomstick polish, apple cider, treacle tart, and vanilla all mixed into one, like the very love potion we brewed last year. But it tasted bitter in my mouth, and even my name on your lips wouldn't stop me.

I kept running. And when I reached the dormitories before you, I realized something.

This is what heartbreak feels like. I'm only feeling it because I love you enough to let you go.

_Come back someday_.

Love,

James

* * *

**Author's Note: **I know. Much longer, and even more angsty than before. Please do not hate me because I didn't really resolve anything, but remember I'm hoping to go past 7th year with this story. They've got a lot of sorting out to do. Don't worry. They'll fix it eventually, I promise. Perhaps sooner than expected, I don't know exactly. I'd like to keep doing a few drabble bits chapters if you guys don't mind.

What I would really like is for ALL OF YOU to review this story! It would mean so much to me, honestly. Please. Ah well.

-St. Walker


	9. October Part One

**Author's Note: **Thank you all so much for reviewing the last chapter! It really means a lot every time I receive one. Now, I'm not exactly sure where I'm going with this story, but I know it'll go somewhere, we all know how it ends. So, in the space between the next time Lily talks to James (yes she will begin the conversation next time), I've decided to write a few chapters of multiple days, just a bunch of little drabbles connected in one chapter. So yeah.

Thank you all. Here it goes.

* * *

October 5, 1976

Dear Lily,

It is late, past my bedtime. Look, time has just crossed into October 5th. Yesterday (or rather two days ago) I left you alone, and today (yesterday) I pretended that you weren't looking at me every time you noticed my face. And I pretended that every time you looked away I wasn't staring at you, constantly wandering over the freckles you wore on your nose and upper cheeks, your pinkish skin masking the very core of your being - your organs and bones. To me, you are perfect in every layer.

I know I thought I would wait forever for you to turn around and reappear, but forever is a long time. It's been two days and I'm already missing trying to speak to you, trying to make a fool of myself in case you'll look me over and let the left side of your lips twitch up as you always do when you attempt not to smile. Waiting for forever is hard. It's a long way off.

But right now I am thinking, and, as always, my thoughts stray to you.

I am so exhausted from lying in bed thinking about how amazing we would be together.

I will try to fall asleep. It will take a well-rested James to stop James from saying something dumb to you.

Love,

James

* * *

October 11, 1976

Dear Lily,

I feel sick. Okay, well I feel like feeling sick. I don't want to see you, I don't want to, honestly. Fine. I'm afraid, all right? That's okay, probably not. I don't want to run into you, okay?

You don't even understand, but every moment I see you I have to turn my eyes away because now, after realizing how deeply my emotions run, I need all my willpower not to say it. Do you even know how hard it is to love you? One wrong step and it's all gone. And I've made it disappear so many times.

It's not easy to pretend you don't exist, Lily. It's harder than anything I've ever done because I am deeply in love with you. God. You just had to ruin my life, didn't you? You just had to be adorable. Always, always, always. Every year, getting more beautiful, more charming, more challenging, more real, more everything I've ever wanted.

Sigh. I'm not angry Lily. I just wish you were mine. All the time.

I'm going to fake sick today and pretend like I'm a hermit. It's easier than watching you in class, wishing and waiting.

Love,

James

* * *

October 12, 1976

Dear Lily,

I've faked sick again today. Okay, well, actually today I might be sick. My head aches, and my nose is numb. Sirius looked on me with pity this morning. "Heartbreak?"

I didn't answer. I didn't want to, you know? I just pulled the covers back over my head, groaning. I don't know where this cold has come from, but it feels like the same one I get every year right after school, when I haven't seen you in awhile. Maybe... No.

Well maybe, after thinking about you but not being around you, dreaming about you but not looking at you, I have developed a Lily sickness. God, this cannot be real, but it feels real. It is real.

You are a beautiful cold, taking residence in my head, without a cure. And if I could find one, would I use it?

No. Never.

Love,

James

* * *

October 17, 1976

Dear Lily,

My headache has just stopped even though I've been back at school for five days, even though yesterday I accidentally brushed up against your shoulder while walking out of charms. You stopped suddenly, as if ice touched you, a real cold shoulder, I suppose, but I ignored it and walked on, catching up to Remus. When I knew you were walking the other direction, I turned around to watch your ponytail swing back and forth, mentally kicking myself for letting my eyes wander you again. I shouldn't let it happen. I'm trying and failing to get you to come to me. But I can't help that I want to look at you all the time. I don't think I'll ever get tired of watching you. Every time I see you it's as if there's a new freckle, a new crinkle in your lips, a new shine in your eyes. It's breathtaking, really.

The Marauders don't bring you up, and I'm rather grateful. I think they know I'm hurting too much as it is constantly thinking about you. We just laugh like we used to, like we always do, but... for me the pranks have become monotonous. I don't know if it's this weak depression I've wandered into, or because I'n growing up, maturing. I don't know. But I think of you whenever we plan, wondering how you will react. And I know, every time, there won't be a smile, a grin, a smirk - anything I'm hoping for. Instead, the lips twitch, yeah, but more into an angered glare in my direction. And it's never in the direction of Sirius, or Peter, or, heaven forbid, Remus. Me. Always me. I'm the problem. But this time, I won't make eye contact with you. And I don't know if I'm happy with that or not.

I sigh again and walk away from the Marauders. They don't say anything, Remus just nods at me. Like he know what I'm thinking. Which he probably does. He knows, that damn wolf.

I walk outside. It's cool, the wind whipping my hair, tufts standing up. Leaves fall, golden brown glistening in the clouds, twisting and nimbly touching down on green grass, crackling. I laugh slightly. The world is so beautiful sometimes. All the time, yes, but I only sometimes notice. Other times, I walk outside and carry myself as if I am above everything else. But when I see these leaves, the shift of tree limbs, and everything so real and natural. I understand it is I who is below everything.

I'm wandering, not because I am lost, but because I am searching. _For you. _

I didn't even think about it when I came outside, but somewhere my feet take me by my heart's thinking, and here I am walking around. Your face is somewhere.

And then I see you. You stand in front of the lake, letting the water dissolve at your feet in little crests. You don't see me, I'm about fifty paces behind you. I debate running up to you, turning you around and saying something. I don't know what, but I can't do that, not yet. I'm not there yet, we aren't there yet. My mind crashes into a quiet place and I dream about this moment in the future, coming up behind you and wrapping my arms around you, kissing the back of your head. I shake my head. Not yet.

You sense my presence and turn around. Your eyes are nimble, chasing over my face, my expressionless face. You make eye contact with me and it takes all of my strength to keep my legs from buckling under the weight of those deeply sad emeralds. They plead, almost, asking me to come up and act like an idiot so things will be normal again.

But I don't want normal. I want change.

So I shrug, turn around, and walk back up to school. But not without whispering.

_My heart is washed up, hidden by sand and seaweed - I hope you find it._

Love,

James

* * *

October 19, 1976

Dear Lily,

We made progress today. Somewhat.

Transfiguration. We were learning about theories of nonverbal spells. It all seemed rather intriguing, really, but I wasn't paying attention. I think no one was. Friday, you know? Even McGonagall looked distracted, her work tasks almost boring to her as well. Could anyone blame her? We were waiting. Ten minutes until the weekend started. Sirius couldn't keep quiet. He bounced lightly, drumming his fingers, whispering to Selina, but a stage whisper really, one that was loud enough to hear. I caught inklings of their conversation, but I was only half listening, my gaze stuck on you. Again.

And in the last moments of class you looked up to see me. Surprise wandered through your eyes, but it was short-lived as your eyes darkened. Then, with McGonagall droning on, it was only you and I in the world, your lips twitching. And with short movements, they opened.

But you hesitated. Debating, wondering, thinking, is this the right choice?

There's always so much meaning in hesitation.

The bell rang, we all ran out, and your mouth shut.

Someday. Soon?

Love,

James

* * *

**Author's Note: **Woo! I loved writing all of these. I'm debating keeping it like this, having many drabbles in one chapter. I'm not sure. What do you think? When you review (and hopefully EVERYONE REVIEWS) please tell me if this is a good idea, or you would rather I keep simple drabbles? Ah well. Please answer and review! Thank you all.

-St. Walker


	10. October 21, 1976

**Author's Note: **I'm sorry it's been so long since I updated. I guess I've just been in this bored place. I dunno, I haven't really been writing anything, not even my usual poetry, it's pretty sad. Ah well. I decided to continue doing little drabbles, not long chapters, so here's a little drabble.

Thank you all. Please Review.

* * *

October 21, 1976

Dear Lily,

We haven't spoken in a long time, too long, I feel. I know, actually, that it has been too long. I miss you often. Your bitten back smiles when I say something uproariously hilarious (I do that quite often), the way your hips sway when you stalk away from me, and the huff and puff you cry when agitated with me. I miss it all, you know? Damn. Damn, damn, damn. Well.

We haven't spoken and you keep looking at me with your hands pulled behind your back, your left hand gripping your right fingers, your body shaking slightly, and I know these motions. I go through them everyday I see you, hoping, slightly, that if I walk up to you I won't feel the most painful ache crawl over me. I don't know if you know this, but walking away from you that day when I said we could be friends was perhaps the most worst moment of my life. And I wish, somehow, that I could take it back, just so we could argue and fight and be dumb to each other and ignore the fact I know you enjoy it, somewhere. You like hating me. That's sick, and maybe I'm sick for thinking this, but I love that you enjoy it. Call me a masochist, I don't care. But that's how I feel.

It's nighttime. I look out the window, now, watching the moon and the clouds and the shadows, dribbling down the sky's back, like showers of liquid silver, pulsing warmly against the spine of our great Earth. I look, sometimes, because I am weary of astrology; I want to go as far as the stars may take me. I think of you know. I groan.

You and the stars are so inconveniently out of reach.

Love,

James


	11. October 27, 1976

**Author's Note: **I'm sorry it's been so long since I updated. I guess I've just been in this bored place. I dunno, I haven't been able to write anything at all. And I feel like shit because of it, but yeah.

Thank you all. Please Review.

* * *

October 27, 1976

Dear Lily,

I have this warm place in my heart that I wish you would stand in. I do love you, you know that. I'm in Charms class right now, my head pressed against mahogany. I didn't sleep much last night. No one did, I think, because even Flitwick talks slowly today, his left hand palced precariously on a railing in hopes that his own mind will not shove him over. I don't know, I'm not worried about this class. But there you are, seven paces in front of me to the right, you back straight and proper, your quill whipping back and forth, jotting down every word he says. I watch, endlessly intrigued by the motions of your wrist, the curve of our L's, the simplistic quality your entire being produces as you create, you delve into the ink of your blood and release this perfect note taking - and hold up.

Those aren't notes! You little minx! Those are notes, that's a note! Like a note, oh you know what a note is, the one where you place your favorite crush in writing and then your best friend accidentally drops it (or so he says), and it ends up in the hands of the girl you like and she huffs angrily and casts a burning charm on the note so it will never be remembered. But. I mean. I don't know what I'm talking about. But that's a note! And, and - and you're passing it to Dorcas.

Who passes it to Alice, who passes it to Selina, to Remus, to Peter, to Sirius, to me. And it's in my hands.

_After class. You. Me. 3rd floor. _

Be still my heart. I look at Sirius who is asleep already. Remus is taking notes again, and Peter is writing something too. Will no one share in my glory?! This is it, this moment when you finally decide to be my friend. Or wait. No wait, what if this is you saying you don't want to speak to me ever. What if that happens too? Holy shit this is the end isn't it. Okay, breathe, breathe.

And then we're there, you know. I follow you to third floor into an abandoned classroom. I close the door quietly. I realize I've been holding my breath the entire way here.

"Hi," you say, half your lips curved in this obnoxiously cute smirk that I'm sure would mirror mine if I had the strength to smile.

"Hi."

Silence again, air crackling with energy, your hands reaching behind to perch on a desk, your body leaning back. You lean towards your wall, and I lean towards mine.

"I want..." You trail off, half alive, I feel, your hands wringing themselves. I can't think either, and if I try to say something I'm so worried I'll ruin this before it can start.

"Um."

Silence.

"Friendship and hanging out and being normal," You blurt out suddenly and you're off, losing focus and falling into nervous energy, "and walking each other to class with dumb smirks and the stupid goofiness that you have and the pranks and the stupid flirtation and all that and your cute grins and the way you care about your friends I want you to care about me like that and..."

You realize how much you've said and you clamp your hand over your mouth. "Shit."

I smile. I can't stop, I don't want to ever stop. "Friendship."

"Friendship."

I'm ready to jump in the air but you correct things, a bit. "But this is probationary," you warn. "I don't want you to ask me out and I don't want trouble and I just want to be your friend, but if that doesn't work out..."

I don't say anything.

Ring.

The bell.

You walk past me, your shadow and aroma running over me. In the silence, I drop my hands to my side, trying not to reach out. I turn.

You close the door when you leave, so softly, a timid kind of punctuation that lingers.

Love,

James


End file.
